"I have not passed a day
without loving you, I have not passed a night without holding you in my arms; I
have not drunk a cup of tea without cursing the triumph and the passion that
has kept me from the soul of my life. in the midst of labours, at the head of
armies, crossing battlefields, my adorable Josephine sits alone in my heart,
occupying my mind, carrying away my thoughts. If I get up in the middle of the
night to work, I do so in order that my sweet darling may bring her arrival a
few days earlier, but at the same time, you call me "you" in your
letter.
You are "you!"
Oh, bad girl, how could you
write this letter? How cold it is! Oh, darling, this "you" and these
four days, they make me look for my old indifference. Whoever caused it, woe to
him...
You! You! Oh! What will happen
in fifteen days? ... my soul is sad, my heart is enslaved and my imagination
frightens me... you love me little... one day you won't love me at all, tell me
that. at least I'll manage to deserve the pain. "
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